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Before I can stop myself, I fling my arms around his neck, tears springing to my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice tight with the release of pent-up fear and gratitude.

His hold is firm and reassuring, just for a moment, before he eases back, meeting my gaze. In the depths of his eyes, I sense understanding—he knows what we’ve just been through, knows the weight of it.

A moment of connection transcends mere gratitude. Not quite attraction—yet—but recognition, as if some part of me instinctively knows this man is important. My heart quickens, responding to his quiet strength and the safety he offers after months of constant fear. It’s too soon for anything more, but the seed of possibility plants itself in that shared look.

Gabe clears his throat, his timing impeccable and slightly apologetic. Hank and I break apart, turning to see Gabe nearby, a soft smile on his lips. The warmth in his eyes reflects empathy and relief. My throat tightens with gratitude for both of them.

The emotional current pulls me toward him now, my body craving the same connection and reassurance I found with Hank. I step toward Gabe, wrapping my arms around his waist, my head barely at his chest. He’s solid, immovable, like a living shield. A quiet hum of comfort threads through me, and I exhale shakily against him. He returns the embrace gently, so careful not to aggravate any hidden bruises.

In that fragile moment, surrounded by chaos yet flooded with solace, I understand how deeply the bonds of survival can forge themselves in the heat of crisis.

These two men—my unexpected protectors—offered safety in a storm I barely survived. For now, that’s enough.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done,” I murmur, my voice still thick with emotion.

Gabe’s arms encircle me with a firm gentleness that makes me feel cocooned in warmth and strength. I lean into him, grateful for his solid presence. He bends down and plants a soft kiss on the crown of my head, a gesture that sends a comforting shiver through me.

His fingers curl slowly in my hair, applying gentle yet unmistakable pressure as he tilts my head back to meet his gaze. The world narrows to just us in that moment, everything else fading into the background.

There’s a pause, the space between us charged with tension. My heart thrums in my chest, responding to the intensity in his eyes.

Then, almost imperceptibly, Gabe’s gaze flicks over to Hank. It’s a small gesture, but one that reveals a deeper communication between them, something I can’t quite decipher in my exhausted state.

I catch Hank’s expression from the corner of my eye. He doesn’t look away. Something in his gaze mirrors Gabe’s earlier intensity, sending my pulse skittering with curiosity and excitement.

A tingle of anticipation settles deep in my stomach. Neither Gabe nor Hank presses the moment further, but the awareness pulses in the space between us, vibrant and alive. For now, it’s enough to acknowledge it, to let it hover in the air, promising that this connection—whatever form it takes—might be far from ordinary.

With my mind spinning and my heart pounding, I pull back slightly, looking at Hank and Gabe with a new awareness.

Hank places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We’re almost ready to move out.” His voice is low and steady, embodying a quiet authority that anchors the moment.

Watching them, there is a synergy between Gabe and Hank—each movement balanced against the other’s. Hank appears to be the decision-maker, calm and self-possessed, while Gabe translates those decisions into action with a physical, almost feral intensity. It’s fascinating how seamlessly they operate, like they’ve mastered each other’s rhythms long ago.

A small smile tugs at my lips as exhaustion gives way to something more complex. Even through the trauma and fear, I recognize something in both men that resonates with a part of myself I’ve almost forgotten. Before Malfor, before my captivity, I explored relationships that went beyond the conventional. I discovered my preference for partners with quiet authority who could guide me when I needed a break from constantly being in control of my own life and research.

These men radiate that kind of confidence and command, each in their own distinct way. Not quite attraction—yet—but recognition of something that once mattered to me. A reminder that I’m still myself despite everything that’s happened.

I take a deep breath, surprised by the direction of my thoughts. After everything I’ve been through, the fact that I can still recognize this aspect of myself feels like reclaiming a small piece of who I was before captivity.

I can picture myself sandwiched between them, their energies colliding. My chest tightens with a rush of anticipation at the mere fantasy of it.

With two bossy men, each radiating a different kind of power, I can’t help but imagine what it might feel like to give in completely, letting them guide me through pleasure’s most decadent extremes.

Then reality crashes back. What am I thinking? I was just rescued from a facility that exploded. People died tonight. I nearly died. My mind is pinballing between terror and inappropriate attraction because I’m not processing anything properly.

Trauma does strange things to the brain—I know this academically, and now I’m experiencing it firsthand.

I wrap my arms around myself. Hank’s sweatshirt envelops me in a warmth that feels like safety. What I need right now isn’t fantasy or distraction. It’s stability.

Food. Sleep.

And time to process what just happened to me—to all of us.

Although, fantasy is fun. It stirs something deep in me—a yearning for the electrifying edge when dominance meets submission.

If they share that inclination… the chemistry could be off the charts. It’s enough to make my head spin, and I’m left hoping, in the quiet corners of my mind, that reality can match the potential I sense crackling between us.

I let out a chuckle, realizing I’m intrigued by the idea of a threesome.

Fabulous. I’m rescued from certain peril, and here I am, more than a little turned on by two strangers and one very active imagination. But maybe it’s not so strange—this is my body reminding me I’m alive, that I survived, that I’m still capable of wanting more than just safety after months of captivity and trauma.

Just then, I catch Gabe’s eyes on me, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “Sweetheart, I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but your cheeks are the prettiest pink I’ve ever seen.” He lets his voice carry enough for Hank to catch it.

Hank, not missing a beat, adds with a knowing smirk, “Must be something interesting, judging by that look.”

Their teasing catches me off guard, but the playful intimacy in their words, meant for my ears only, sends another warm flutter to the pit of my stomach.

The banter sparks an electrifying tension in the air, an unspoken challenge echoing between us to explore exactly what we might be hinting at. It’s like we’re engaged in a dance of words, each of us testing the waters, probing to see who will take the next step.

I bite my lower lip, letting a playful glint light up my eyes as I meet their steady gazes. “Well, you know what they say about letting your imagination run wild,” I reply, my voice laced with bold bravado.

“Careful, luv,” Hank says, his voice a deep rumble that holds a promise yet to be fulfilled. “We can be quite inventive and imaginative ourselves.”

Gabe chimes in, a teasing edge to his voice. “We might be more adventurous than you’re ready for, sweetheart.”

The statement is both a playful warning and an alluring dare. It’s impossible to ignore—excitement bubbles up inside of me.

Their words evoke a delicious thrill, a promise of discovery and a subtle, powerful invitation—one that I find myself more than willing to consider despite the risk. Facing off against two dominant men might not be the wisest thing to do, but the tantalizing possibility of it all makes it an irresistible prospect.

As our eyes lock, the air between us crackles with shared awareness, acknowledging that this playful testing ground could lead to something far more exhilarating.

Just as the tension peaks, we’re interrupted by the familiar rumble of multiple engines, a welcome distraction that catches me off guard.

It’s like being saved by the bell, giving me a moment’s reprieve from the rapid pulse of my thoughts and the charged atmosphere we’ve created.